


Concave

by korik



Series: Misery Mine [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Drabble, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Manipulation, No Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, canon original character interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:47:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Headcanon things. Vayne is anywhere from 13 - 14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concave

His insides tremble, a seething mass of words and touches that echo against the walls of his mind, his usually well kept hair frayed and tangled. It heaps about his shoulders, hides his aching neck as he struggles to not curl up.

Adelaid leans forward, impassive, cold, the thick of his manicured brows cracking slowly as they pinch while the boy tries to force out his words.

The youth shakes, mind burning. “Please, brother, what am I to do? They came to me, as I have told you, and I, unwilling as I was, could not deflect them.” He winds his fingers, curls the fabric of his jacket betwixt the joints made rough from so many years of labor and self betterment, wrinkling, tearing, fraying -

"Were you forced?"

The chill of those eyes freezes his breathing into a hiss.

"I - w-well, I seemed to recall I spoke no but…it was not what my b-body wished -?" Tell him, tell him he is right to feel this way. To feel so violated and used, ignored and toyed with. Ashamed.

The elder brother laughs and sits back, allowing Vayne the ease to breathe again as the well managed, carefully folded older brother speaks. “You stupid little fool,” he rubs thumb and forefinger together, examining his fingertips. “‘tis obvious to me you desire my advice, so heed my words, little brother: -“

The young monk feels his eyes glazing over, a heavy weight in his stomach thickening, congealing. The rumination of his hands has stopped.

" - allow the education to continue; you will learn great skills at that particular table, and it would suit you to learn what all Solidor’s employ out of necessity, and enjoyment."

He feels quite small sitting across from the monster before him, the neat, slightly tight coat emblazoned with hours of reiteration, and the youth feels like a taut line is being sawed away at betwixt them.

Adelaid’s hand on his shoulder jolts him, and he suppresses a tremor. “You understand, correct? There is nothing you cannot get away with should you take the proper precautions.” A conspirator’s smile eases Adelaid’s severity, though it only makes Vayne sicker, his head spinning. “If worse comes to worse, I am certain there is some behavior that can be uncovered.”

Perhaps he is being protective to imply threats can be made so easily, but all the young man wishes to do is to recoil, yank his shoulder from under the burning grip of the elder Solidor.

He learns, however, that he smiles, that he  _must smile_ when faced with a forked tongue. “I understand.”

Adelaid nods, and the smile splits to a glistening grin. “A good talk, little brother.” He retracts from Vayne and with a flick of his wrist, the allowance to leave, causes his throat to compress, air to not heed his wishes and flee from his body.

The boy stops himself from running across the floor, avoids tripping over the door though his hands quiver. It clicks closed and he runs before he is sick in the hall.


End file.
